


One Step From Home

by rubygirl29



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Established Relationship, Friendship, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:34:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubygirl29/pseuds/rubygirl29
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after S.5 <i>Search and Rescue</i> and <i>The Seed</i>. John and Ronon return to Earth for some R&R and to give John time to recover from his injuries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Step From Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [black_raven135](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=black_raven135).



> This is my Hurricane Sandy fic for black_raven135. I know you like genfics, and this is certainly not explicit in any way, but Cam and Evan are in a relationship. John and Ronon aren't. 
> 
> I hope it meets your expectations. You're the best. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I wish I owned them, because if I did, they'd still be on the air.

**One Step From Home**

Ronon is released from the infirmary on Atlantis thirty-six hours after nearly being strangled by the entity that was taking over the city. His larynx is bruised and he has strict instructions to rest his throat. He also has bruised ribs, but the doctors don't seem to be particularly concerned about that. It's a hazard of the job.

He's at loose ends. He doesn't feel like going to his quarters. If he sleeps there, he'll have nightmares that the walls are going to grow tentacles and choke the life from him. He takes refuge in John's cubicle. He's had his second surgery in six weeks, which is excessive, even for him. He finally came out of the fog of anesthesia long enough to ask if Atlantis was safe, and after Rodney assured him that it was, he went back to sleep. He looks bruised, fragile, bled out. Ronon is worried for him. He sits at John's bedside, trying to will color into his pale cheeks. He's closer to Sheppard than he's been to anybody for a long time, since Sateda ... Given how well that worked out, he ought to be more cautious than to give his heart in friendship again, but this is _John_ , and Ronon won't let him go without a fight. 

When he hears the curtain parting, he looks up, his hand going to his holster, then relaxing because it is only Richard Woolsey. Ronon doesn't trust Woolsey yet, and it must show, because Woolsey looks scared half to death by Ronon. "Can I have a word?" he asks.

Ronon shrugs, then nods. Woolsey sits down. "Dr. Beckett says he came through the surgery well." Ronon nods. "I know you can't talk, but I want to thank you. You did a brave thing."

Ronon shakes his head. "I failed," he mouths silently, but Woolsey understands.

"No. You brought him enough time to finish the job. As I said, he's doing well, but Beckett is going back to Earth, and I want Colonel Sheppard to go with him, just to get checked out by the doctors at SG-1. I would like you to go with him."

"Why?"

"Because you're his friend. You've both earned the R&R."

Ronon tilts his head, considering. He isn't comfortable on Earth, but he has Teal'c now, and Colonel Carter. He nods, agreeing. He won't deny John what's best for him. The sooner he's better, the sooner they can get back to Atlantis. 

"Good. When he's cleared, we'll set it up. Thank you."

"Welcome." It's barely above a whisper, but Woolsey looks sternly at him. 

"No talking. Doctor's orders."

Ronon would smile, but he can't help wondering what the plan is. He leaves Woolsey's office. He wants to talk to Teyla, but he can't talk to anybody. He goes to his quarters and lies down on his bed. He's not a man to make plans, that's John's job. Somehow he doesn't think Sheppard is going to be the one in charge of this mission. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
The next morning, John is awake and looking miserable. At least he's not at death's doorstep any longer. He looks up when Ronon comes in. "Hey," he says. He sounds weak.

"Hey." Ronon rasps. It hurts to talk. It reminds him of the years he spent running from the Wraith when there were times he didn't speak to another human for months. It hurt to talk when he met up with the few people who risked helping him. Eventually, he left places where people lived as soon as he stepped through the gate. His hands clench and open at his sides.

"What's wrong?" John asked. 

Ronon shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Still can't talk?"

"Not much."

"Woolsey came by. Told me about going back to Earth. You know that you don't have to come with me, right?"

"Orders." The smile twitching at the corner of his mouth betrays him.

John answers with a similar twitch. "Right."

"When?"

"As soon as I can stand up without feeling like my insides are about to spill out. Three days or so, I guess." He looks down at his stomach. "I miss eating."

That makes Ronon grin. "Me, too. Tired of soup and blue jello." He winces. "Gotta be quiet for a few hours."

"Yeah. I should sleep." He makes it sound like he's only doing it to make the doctors happy, but his eyes are already half-mast. Ronon sits with him for a while until a nurse chases him away. He doesn't argue with her. His ribs hurt, his throat hurts and he figures he needs to sleep as much as Sheppard does. When he gets to his quarters, sleep is elusive. He lies on his bed and thinks about Earth.

First ... it's _Earth_ , as if that doesn't freak him out enough on its own. Then there's SGC, and General Landry, and Mr. Coolidge, the guy who nearly nuked the installation. Then there's Dave Sheppard, John's older brother who looks at Ronon like he's crawled out from under a rock ... well, maybe Dave was a little pissed that John chose him and the SGC over the family business. There's the clothes, and the cars, and the cities that are so much larger and every bit as dangerous as Sateda. There are forks and knives and spoons. Ronon always feels like he's six times bigger and more clumsy than anybody else in the room. Still, John had saved him from Wraith ships and other things a thousand times more terrifying than a dinner with Dave Sheppard, so Ronon would pretend that this was okay. Eventually, he falls asleep and dreams of his home on Sateda.

His throat isn't nearly as sore the next day. He can string three words together without choking on them. He can eat food, and not just soup and pudding. He goes to the infirmary where Sheppard is sitting up and playing with his blue jello, bouncing the spoon off of it and frowning. He looks restless and bored. He brightens considerably when he sees Ronon. 

"Hey, buddy. How's the throat?"

"Good."

"So, about this Earth thing ..." John is watching him as his fingers pleat the blankets. 

"Yeah. I'm going with you, remember?"

"You don't have to."

"We had this conversation." Ronon winces as his throat tightens in protest. 

"It sucks to be us."

Ronon laughs, tries not to wince again. "See you later. Got to pack."

John sighs. "I hate blue jello." Ronon just waves at him as he leaves.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Two days later, they step through the Cheyenne Mountain stargate. Walter and a contingent of marines greet them. John raises a brow. "We didn't bring any Wraith with us today."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, we have protocols in place."

The major heading up the marines turns to them. "Stand down." He grins at John apologetically. "Welcome to Cheyenne Mountain, Colonel Sheppard. I have orders to escort you and Ronon Dex to medical for the usual scans and tests."

"I think I can find my way."

"Sir, I have orders." 

The strained look around his eyes tells John that maybe there is more going on than that. He looks back at Ronon who is glowering behind him. "C'mon, Chewie. Sounds like they have a welcoming committee in medical for us."

"For you," Ronon growls. "I'm fine." Still, he goes with John without another complaint. John wonders if he's dying and Ronon is there to cushion the blow. However, the scans in medical are completely normal, even if Dr. Lam is frowning at him through the entire exam. She and Ronon could be bookends, and he feels like the battered paperback between them. By the time the scans and tests are finished, he's exhausted. Lam releases him from medical once she frowns over his files, but finds nothing that sends up red flags. They're assigned guest quarters and with Ronon's arm slung around him for support, they go to what's available; a small room with two cots, a TV, and a desk. 

"Five-star accommodations, SGC style." He grins at Ronon, who is looking askance at the tiny cots -- well, tiny for Ronon. They look fine to John. He settles on his back, looking at the ceiling. "Listen, Ronon. You don't have to stay here. Go back to Atlantis and I'll follow in a few days."

"Orders, remember?"

"I'm your CO."

"Woolsey is your boss, and he told me to stay here, make sure you got your medical clearance, and get you back to Atlantis safely."

"It will only take a few days at the most," John grumbled. "I'm fine."

"Like I haven't heard that before." The bed creaks under Ronon's weight. "You want some dinner?"

"Sure, if you want to go and get it. I'm just going to lie here and recover from all those medical tests. They took enough blood to make me weak."

Ronon snorts, "Right." He dims the light and heads to the mess. They have the usual fine SGC cuisine. He gets the infamous Salisbury steak, figuring it will be easy for John to eat in small bites, macaroni and cheese and applesauce. He grabs four chocolate pudding cups and two bottles of iced tea, then heads back to their quarters. 

John is sitting up holding a well-read copy of _Aviation World_. His face brightens when he sees the food. Fortunately, his injuries haven't compromised his stomach or guts, and he's hungry. Judging from Ronon's appetite, he's _starving_. 

When he's finished, he fixes John with a sharp appraisal. "What's next?"

"Umm ... sleep?"

"You know what I mean."

"Assuming that I'm cleared by medical? What do you want to do? Drive up into the mountains, hike, stay at a lodge ... get a cabin?"

"Sheppard --"

"What?" It's the first time Ronon has looked worried and exasperated, which makes John defensive. "Tell me what the fuck you want."

"Not what I want. Dave. You should see Dave."

Sheppard slumps like he's been deflated. "Dave? What brought that on?"

"It's been a year. He's your brother. You nearly died. Twice."

"I'm tired. We'll talk about it in the morning." John stands and heads toward the bathroom. "I'm turning in."

"I'm going to the gym," Ronon growls. 

"Good. You need to sweat out some of your sour disposition." He softens the words with a smile, though. If he was up to it, he'd join Ronon, let him beat the crap out of him, and then maybe they'd both sleep better. Ronon turns and rests his hands on John's shoulders. "You're too thin," he says. 

"I'm fine."

Ronon shakes his head and the beads in his dreadlocks click against each other. "Don't think so, Sheppard. Go to bed."

John goes to bed and Ronon goes to the gym. He works out hard. Other than his throat and sore ribs, he isn't injured or weak. When his body is running with sweat, he slides down to the floor and rests his head against the wall until his breathing evens out. He showers, changes from his loose workout clothes to his Earth clothes -- jeans and a dark sweater. He rinses out his own clothes in cold water and takes them back to the room where he drapes them over the desk chair. The loose weave will dry by morning. John is curled up on the narrow cot, the blankets pulled up nearly to his eyebrows. It's a good sleep, Ronon can tell, and relieved he lies down on his own cot and rolls to his stomach. It's an old defense mechanism, to hold his heart safe from the Wraith. There are no Wraith on Earth, but the instinctive wariness remains.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Dr. Lam looks over John's test results and scans. She sighs. "I have no reason to keep you here, medically."

"Good. Then I can go back home?"

"No. You're still at least ten pounds underweight, and anemic. Not to mention that you've been on nearly constant duty for two years. Dr. Lindner believes you're one stressful mission away from a breakdown."

"I'm fine!" 

Dr. Lam turns to Ronon where he stands glowering at John. "Talk to him, please."

John laughs. "Ronon is a man of few words."

"Then he can force your hand. The condition you're in, you couldn't stand up to his pinkie finger." 

Ronon stifles a laugh. He looks at John. "Sheppard, you lost this one. Give it up."

"Fine. Just get me out of here. I know a place where we can go."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

John rents an SUV and they drive up into the mountains. Ronon watches him like a hawk, looking for signs of exhaustion and stress. Except for driving too fast, he seems fine, relaxed as he almost never is on Atlantis. Ronon is tense enough for them both. When John pulls off the main route and on to a gravel road, he is relieved. "Almost there?"

"Yeah." It takes another fifteen minutes, but they turn off the gravel road on to a rutted drive. It ends at a cabin set deep in the woods. It looks rustic, but well-kept. John parks and they get out of the SUV. John stretches and makes a face as his muscles pull. He shakes off Ronon's concern. "I'm good."

"Where are we?"

"General Landry's hunting cabin."

"Landry?" Ronon looks alarmed, as if the general will apparate in front of them.

"Easy, big guy. Ever since we kept Coolidge from blowing up the SGC we've been on Landry's favorites list. He's in D.C., so we get the cabin."

"Have you been here before?"

"Cam Mitchell, Lorne and I spent some time up here before they went off to SGC training. That was a while ago."

"I thought we'd see Lorne at SGC," Ronon says. 

"He's at the base hospital at Peterson doing rehab. Cam emailed me and said Lorne would be staying at his place for a while." John takes a breath. "You know about them, right?"

"Yeah. Lorne told me. It's cool."

John's lips quirk. "I love it when you use Earth-isms. Let's get our stuff inside."

Ronon takes the heavy bags, leaving John the lighter rucksacks so he won't whine about Ronon being overprotective. Inside, the cabin is simply but comfortably furnished. Two bedrooms, one with a double bed, the other with two beds and a bathroom are down a hall off the main room. Ronon stands in the hall, one brow raised. "Which room?"

John throws down his pack on one of the twin beds. "You can have the master."

Ronon rolls his eyes but puts his gear on the other bed. "This is fine." 

"You snore and I'll throw you out."

"I don't snore." It was true. Too many years of running had done that to him; robbed him of deep sleep. He would sleep better knowing John was close and safe. "You snore."

John rolls his eyes. "I'm taking a nap. If I snore, record me on my cell phone." He tosses it to Ronon. "Knock yourself out." He flops down on the bed with less caution than he should have used and muffles a grunt of discomfort.

Ronon decides to ignore it. Making a comment will just get John on the defensive. He closes the door and wanders around the cabin, checking it for ... what? Security? The general has a fine gun cabinet with weapons that look lethal, but worn on the wooden stocks where they were cradled in hands and against cheeks. 

The kitchen has a propane stove and a refrigerator. The freezer has room for supplies and the lower part holds several 6 packs of beer. Sheppard will be happy to have Earth beer and not Athosian ale for a change. There is a radio, but no TV. Bookcases with worn volumes on the shelves. Ronon sighs and sinks down on the leather couch. It's big and deep, and there is a dark green blanket over the back. Ronon pulls it down over himself and falls asleep. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

He wakes to fading light and the aroma of coffee. John is in the kitchen and the coffeemaker is burbling, slowly filling the carafe. Ronon grunts in approval and sits down. "What do we do about food?"

"Cam said the freezer is stocked. I took out some steaks."

"Good. You need red meat."

"Don't-" John's shoulders stiffen as he turns towards Ronon. "Don't be a damn nurse -- I don't need one. I don't need you to take care of me." He storms out of the cabin, leaving Ronon staring after him. 

Ronon, after his years as a runner, knows how it is to have nobody watching out for him, nobody caring for his wounds, comforting him in the dark, cold night. He could do it again if he had to; he could be on his own, but he wouldn't do it by choice. He pours two mugs of coffee and takes them out to the porch, hoping John hasn't taken off on a hike through the woods. 

He hasn't. He's leaning against the rail, his head and shoulders bowed. Ronon stands there, leaning on the doorframe until John takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I'm not good with needing help."

"I kinda guessed that." Ronon stands next to him. "But maybe sometimes you do."

"I'm hungry. Let's grill up some red meat."

^*^*^*^*^*^  
It takes all of two days for Sheppard to get antsy, which is about a day longer than Ronon expected. By the third morning, he's pacing the cabin. Ronon knows the signs. "Wanna go back?" as asks as they finish breakfast.

"Hell, yeah."

"You should see Dave," Ronon says gingerly, waiting for the emotional blowback.

John shreds his napkin. "You won't let go of that."

"No. He's family, Sheppard. You should see him."

"Yeah, yeah, Chewie. I get it, but I don't like it." John rolls up the shreds of his napkin. "How fast can you pack?"

"I did it last night." 

John grins. "Me, too."

They leave, with a brief stop at SGC to return Landry's keys and for John to have a quick check-in with medical. Dr. Lam tells him he still needs to be rest, to eat regular meals and take his vitamins. Then she signs off on his medical release. When he leaves the examination room, Ronon is waiting. John hands him the paper. "All clear. You can stop watching me out of the corner of your eye."

"So, on to Redmond?"

"There's one stop I want to make."

"Lorne?"

"Yeah, I'd like to know how he's doing and when he'll be back to Atlantis."

 

Cam's condo is in a neat, upscale development. There is a pristine classic Mustang and a SUV in the driveway. John parks their rented car as the front door opens and Cam is standing there with a smile. "Hey, fellas. Come on in."

The inside is as neat as the outside, clutter at a minimum. Cam and Evan have both spent time in cramped military quarters and are instinctively neat. There is a pile of books on the coffee table, an e-reader and a rumpled afghan and pillows. John looks around him. "Nice place, Cam."

Cam shrugs. "It's home when I'm here."

"How's Lorne?"

Cam glances down the hallway. "It's been a rough haul, but he's finally on the mend. He's in the den. I'll tell him you're here. Meanwhile, make yourself comfortable."

"You okay?" John asks Ronon, who is looking unsettled. 

"Thanks." As usual, he feels too big for a relatively small space. He settles in an armchair. He hasn't been in many private homes on Earth, and they are either too intimidating or too small. He'll be glad to be back on Atlantis which has become familiar and comfortable. That has become _home_.

They hear the thump of Lorne's crutches on the hardwood floor, followed by Cam's combat boots. He's walking behind Evan, one hand at the small of his back to steady him. Lorne is pale and thin, the result of a serious infection that set back the healing of his broken leg. He's still in unwieldy cast, but his eyes are bright and his smile genuine when he sees John and Ronon. 

He holds out his hand to John. "Good to see you, sir."

"Thanks, but cut the 'sir,' crap. I'm just a fellow invalid."

"What happened?"

"Tentacles." Ronon shudders. 

"A jumper crash," John underplays it until Ronon scowls at him, "and two surgeries in three weeks."

It's enough to make Lorne grimace. "Ouch." He lets Cam guide him to the couch and settles with his leg propped up on a pillow. "But you're okay?"

John sighs. "Getting there. How about offering a fellow a beer?" He looks at Cam. "I'm not on any meds."

Cam looks at Ronon, who shrugs. "No meds," he confirms. 

They end up with beers, steaks on the grill and talk about their work, Atlantis, and returning home. It's a good evening, ending only when Lorne admits to exhaustion. 

"You'll be back in Atlantis soon. Radek misses his chess games."

Lorne grins. "Doubt it. He's wiping the floor with everybody. How's McKay taking it?"

"Rodney decided chess was a waste of brainpower and time. He claims he'll send a computer in his stead."

"Radek will still end up winning. Tell him I'm keeping up my skills. Make him worry."

It's not McKay Sheppard is worried about. He looks at Ronon. "We should get going. There's a flight to Seattle waiting for us in the morning. See you soon, Evan."

"Yes, sir --" He blushes. "I'm looking forward to getting back to work."

Cam walks them to the front door. "Thanks for stopping by. He needed the company."

"Cam, what do the doctors say?"

"He's still on oral antibiotics, but the leg is finally mending. He'll need physical therapy, but if he continues as he is, maybe two or three months. I'm not going to push him out the door." His eyes soften, "One less thing I have to worry about."

"Tell him the city misses him." He means _We miss him_ , but he doesn't know how to say it without being awkward.

"I will." Cam sees them out, and even as they drive away, Ronon knows he is watching. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^ 

They catch a morning flight to Redmond and make the drive from the airport to the Sheppard home in silence. "You don't want to do this," Ronon finally said. 

"Ya think?" John's lips curve. "It's not so much that I don't want to, it's just that Dave is going to give me _that_ look. You know ... the one that says he knows I'm lying and that I'm an idiot. Don't you start!"

Ronon wonders how he and Dave could have developed that look two galaxies and countless light years away. "It's not hard figuring that out, Sheppard."

John gives him a look of disgusted annoyance. They pull into the long drive leading to the Sheppard home, and Ronon is struck anew by how lush it is, how much wealth the Sheppards have accrued over the years. The house isn't as old as the manors of the wealthy on Sateda, but it has a permanency about it that comes from the freedom from fear; from the innocence of not knowing that threats like the Wraith exist. It isn't a fortress, it is a home. 

"Earth is lucky," Ronon says, his voice nearly a whisper.

John shakes his head. "We have our monsters, too."

"But no Wraith." 

"Not yet. Not if I can help it. Hell, this isn't the place for that." He puts the car in gear and drives to the parking area in front of the house. "Let's get this over with." 

Ronon frowns at him again, but doesn't say anything about Dave being John's family, being his blood. He follows him up to the front door. John straightens and knocks, them pushes the door open. 

"Dave? Anybody home?"

A door opens. Dave emerges from the office. He's wearing perfectly pressed khakis and a blue chambray shirt. Ronon knows John has one that's nearly identical, which is amusing in some way Ronon can't give a name to. 

"John!" Dave holds out his hand. "I didn't expect you."

"I didn't expect to be here. You remember Ronon, right?"

"Of course." No editorial look, just a warm, firm handshake. "Good to see you again. Come into the den, get comfortable. I'm on a call, but I'm nearly finished. Be with you in a minute."

"Well, that's different," John says. Some of the tension leaves him as they enter the den. He pours them both tall glasses of water and settles into the deep couch. "He's changed."

Ronon shrugs. "Maybe you've changed, Sheppard."

"Nah, I'm still his pain in the ass little brother."

Dave comes in, looks at their glasses of water. "Do you want something stronger?"

"No. I'm good. Ronon?"

"Thanks. No, this is good."

Dave narrows his eyes. "You look pale."

"I'm fine. You know I can't talk about it."

Dave's eyes darken. "That hasn't changed."

"No."

"Damn it, John! I'm your brother. Don't I have a right to know when you're sick, or hurt? What about if you're dead? How long would it be before some 'power that be' decides to inform me that you're gone?"

"Don't be a drama queen," John says in disgust. "It's nothing so dramatic. I was rock-climbing and cracked some ribs."

"Right. You're a terrible liar."

"Okay, then I had a bad landing in a chopper and had to have some surgery. I was off my feet for a few days. I'm fine now, so stop looking at me."

"John ... " Dave says in despair. "Fine. I thought we were past this."

"Why the hell do you think I'm here?" John is nearly shouting. "Because you're my brother and Ronon seemed to think it was important for me to see you while we were back on -- back in the country."

If Dave noticed the slip, he didn't show it. "I'm sorry. Can you stay for dinner, maybe get a good night's rest?"

"Yeah, we can do that." Ronon spoke over John's nascent objections. "Thanks." 

Dave nods, as if he approves of Ronon's decision which in truth is driven more by his concern over Sheppard than his instinct to follow Satedan tradition which regards turning down an offer of hospitality the equivalent of a slap in the face. 

"You're in the guest suite, Ronon. John, your room is always available, you know that." 

"You left the shrine untouched?" John smirks.

"I'm sure you'll want to clean up before dinner. I still have some work to do. Dinner is at seven."

Ronon thinks his room would house a Satedan family of seven. He's not going to object to the shower with multiple nozzles and optional steam, or to the thick, soft towels. He trims his beard, tidies his dreads, dresses in clean jeans and a dark shirt. When he looks in on John, he's sprawled on the bed, more relaxed than Ronon has seen him in a long time. He closes the door quietly and wanders down to the dining room.

Dave is pouring wine. He pauses looks beyond Ronon. "Where is John?"

"Sleeping."

"He looks tired," Dave says as he hands Ronon the wine. "It must have been quite an accident."

Ronon knows Dave is fishing for information that he has no right to give. He can, however, tell him some of the truth. "It wasn't just one accident. You know what we do isn't like sitting behind a desk. There was an explosion -- a building collapse. That was the first injury. The second was a crash, like he said. Bad luck." 

"He has a lot of that."

Ronon sighs. "He's a soldier. He's not--"

"He's not like me." Dave sounds bitter, rueful. 

"His _job_ isn't like yours." Ronon struggles with the words because he doesn't know David Sheppard as well as he knows John, but he's not blind, and he's better at judging character than most people give him credit for. "You're not so different."

"He'd disagree."

Ronon lifts a brow. "You did."

Dave laughs, "So I did. Thank you ... I think. Should we wake him up?"

"No. He needs sleep more than food."

"Good thing it's not steak. I believe Mrs. Lloyd left a casserole."

Ronon isn't sure what that is, but he won't ask. Sometimes, his life is too complicated.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

The next morning, Ronon finds John in the kitchen devouring a stack of pancakes, sausages and scrambled eggs. The Sheppard housekeeper, Delia Lloyd, is watching him with approval. When she sees Ronon, her eyes widen.

"I think I'd better make more pancakes," she says with a sigh. 

"Delia, this is Ronon. Ronon, Delia -- the woman who keeps Dave from living like a hoarder and eating Ramen noodles every night."

Ronon isn't sure about Ramen noodles, just as the term 'casserole' had sent him to Google the night before. He is spared from commenting by the plate of pancakes that is placed in front of him. Pancakes, he knows. 

He's finishing up his second stack when Dave enters the kitchen. He's wearing jeans and a sweater, informal for him. John, who had been watching Ronon's prodigious appetite wear through Delia's pancakes turns and surveys David with a wry smile. "Casual Friday?" 

"I'd like to spend some time with my brother. When are you leaving?"

"Three."

"So, to the airport after lunch?" Dave sounds weary, a little angry and disappointed. 

"I won't turn down Delia's food." He smiles boyishly at her, and Ronon can tell that he's the favorite child here -- most likely always has been -- with his easy charm and ridiculous hair, and with his slim frame that is thinner now than it should be, the mothering instinct has come into full play. He wonders if Dave is jealous of that. He finished the pancakes, and placing a hand on his middle in the universal sign of being full, thanks Delia. 

"I'd like to see the stables?" It's less of a question than a statement, but he looks at Dave for permission. It's not complete subterfuge. He is fascinated by horses. Sheppard promised to teach him to ride someday. Today, he wants to give John some time with his brother. 

"Of course." 

Ronon gets up, gives John a look that communicates clearly that he expects the two brothers to actually _talk_ to each other. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

Dave takes the leap first. "Would you have come to see me if Ronon hadn't dragged you here?" 

"I would have called," John says. He hates being on the defensive, but Dave has always had that effect on him. He was too much like their father. 

"Damn it, John! You're my brother. I think I deserve more than a phone call when you come home looking like -- "

"Don't go there," John threatens. 

"Right. Top Secret. Need to know. All that black ops crap you've been hiding behind all these years. I'm sick of it. What happens the next time? What happens when you come home in a body bag?"

"Don't be melodramatic."

"Tell me that won't happen," Dave challenges. "Someday that bodyguard of yours won't be there --"

"Ronon?" John laughs. "He's not my bodyguard."

"He thinks he is." 

"We watch out for each other."

"Ask him, John."

"You know what? I'm tired of this conversation." John thrusts his fingers through his hair. "Here's the deal. I'm a soldier. I go places that aren't safe. I fly choppers that are complicated beasts. I love what I do -- and you and yours are safe because Ronon and I are out there keeping you safe. So live with that, because that isn't going to change." He turns to leave. 

"Wait! Please, John."

He does, because he's never heard that tone in Dave's voice. Something that sounded like ... loneliness, desolation. "What?" he asks softly.

"You're my family. Dad didn't understand you, but I think maybe I'm starting to see he was wrong. I don't want to get a visit from some bird colonel and a chaplain telling me you've died in some godforsaken place."

"I'll do my best." He smiles slightly. "I'm good at my job. Ronon is good at his. We'll survive." 

"Don't be a stranger, John. You've had enough of being alone." In a rare show of brotherly affection, he sets a hand on John's shoulder. "Will you stay for lunch?"

"I don't think Ronon will leave without one of Delia's home-cooked meals." His throat is unaccountably tight. "I'm not alone, and I'm not that far away." It's true. He's just one step through a Stargate away. 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^  
Later, when John and Ronon are back in their shared barracks at SGC, after they've eaten and are stretched out on their cots in the dark, Ronon raises up on his elbow. "Sheppard, you awake?"

"I am now."

His voice isn't sleepy, just a little slow and Ronon smiles to himself. "You talked to Dave?"

There is a silence. "You aren't going to let this go, are you?"

"No."

John sighs. "We talked. We're good."

"Good?"

"Yeah. You know ... good. I'll check in with him more often and he won't be a dick." 

Ronon laughs at that. He can tell from the self-satisfied and relaxed tone in Sheppard's voice that he's telling the truth. "I'll sleep better at home," Ronon grumbles. 

"Well, we can't just click our heels together and say there's no place like home."

"What?"

"Sorry. Remind me to show you _The Wizard of Oz._ " He clears his throat. "The dial out is early, though. We'll be on Atlantis to see the sunrise."

"After breakfast. I want bacon."

John snorts softly. "Sure thing, buddy." He finishes on a yawn.

"'Night, Sheppard."

"'Night, Ronon."

Ronon sleeps and dreams of a city on the sea, of Teyla welcoming them back. Of the world he knows. Of home. Just a step away.  
 **The End**


End file.
